


Going Down Fighting

by theonetryingtolive



Category: Hacksaw Ridge
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:22:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24698260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetryingtolive/pseuds/theonetryingtolive
Summary: “I was ready to die,” you said, laughing a little now at your own morose thoughts, feeling shaky. “I was ready to go down fighting.”
Relationships: Desmond Doss/Reader
Kudos: 4





	Going Down Fighting

Desmond Doss groaned with the effort it took to haul himself to his feet. He could feel sweat running down his back, but he pushed the thirst away. He had a very limited amount of time to save as many men as he could, and he wasn’t going to waste a single precious second.

A few moments later he was staggering under the weight of a particularly broad man when he caught sight of movement. He tensed, prepared to dodge, or run, but nothing happened. He didn’t catch anything but a soft gasp.

“It’s okay,” he murmured as he kept moving. Not a second to waste. He spoke louder. “I’m coming back. I’m coming back, hold on.”

Once the process of dangling the man down was done, he went back to the wreckage. The smoke was thinning, and he was forced to crawl through a very tight space before he was able to reach the location where he that gasp had come from. He saw a dark form lying on a pool of blood, and he hurried.

Your eyes widened when you saw him. The man looked like he had been crawling through blood and mud all night long. His hands were calloused, the skin broken and bleeding. You tried to speak but instead coughed, and then his hands were on you, touching your face, pushing the helmet out of the way so he could look for injuries.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, as soothingly as he could. “I’m here, it’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you replied between gasps of pain. “I thought…”

“No,” he said, firmly. “No, nobody abandoned you. I’m here, and I’m taking you home. You just gotta hold on.”

You bit your lip when he touched your abdomen. He didn’t look scared, but determined, and that reassured you. “You got hit, but you’re going to be fine, Y/N.”

You nodded, and tried not to scream when he pulled you from the pool of blood. “Shh, I know. I know, but we have to move. Can you hold onto me? I need to carry you.”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah, I can. What’s— What’s your name?”

“Desmond,” he replied, hauling you up. Time was running out. He moved as fast as he could, trying not to jostle you too much, but the main priority was getting you out of there.

“They’re coming,” you whispered urgently as he made his way to the edge of the ridge. “They’re coming.”

“I know,” he put you down, and as quickly as he could tied the rope around you. “You’re going to be fine, hold on.”

“I don’t want to go,” you said, suddenly emboldened. “I’m not leaving you up here to die.”

A small smile appeared on his mud streaked face. “I’ll see you down there.”

“No!” He pushed you towards the edge, holding onto the rope with his bleeding hands. “Desmond!”

The last thing you saw before you fell was Desmond’s face.

—

Down at the bottom of the ridge there was chaos. You were lifted by someone, put on a stretcher, taken away. Your eyes stayed fixed on the edge of that ridge. Up there, somewhere, you’d left part of yourself.

The medics were bustling all around you, asking questions, making comments, looking at you like you’d come back from the dead. You were not allowed to get up from your cot, not even when a loud cheer made its way through the camp. You didn’t know what was going on, but you dared to hope.

—

It didn’t take long for him to sneak away from the medics tending to his own wounds. As soon as his hands were disinfected and bandaged he made his way through the cots, eyes searching frantically as men thanked him as he passed.

Your eyes widened when you saw him, and he smiled that same calm smile, and sat next to you. At first you didn’t quite know what to say, the words were stuck to your throat. Finally, you said his name. “Desmond.”

“Hey there,” he said, taking your hand in his. “I knew you’d make it.”

“I don’t know who you are, or how you came to be here. I don’t know how you found me up there, but…thank you.”

He shook his head. “Nothing to thank me for.”

“I was ready to die,” you said, laughing a little now at your own morose thoughts, feeling shaky. “I was ready to go down fighting.”

Desmond’s expression didn’t change, his eyes were glued to you. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“I know that now,” you said, your hand warm in his.

“We’ll make it home.” He moved his other hand to your cheek, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling. Then, he leaned down, and pressed a small kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah,” you agreed, eyes still closed.

“No, I mean we’re going home. Together.”

Your eyes opened, and you nodded. “Okay. Is that a promise?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “It’s a promise.”


End file.
